


Untitled

by Laura Shapiro (laurashapiro)



Category: due South
Genre: Canadian Shack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-02
Updated: 2001-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurashapiro/pseuds/Laura%20Shapiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Cesperanza's Canadian Shack challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cesperanza's Canadian Shack challenge.

"I thought you said he was expecting us or something."

"Kowalski, cut me some slack, huh? You're lucky I could even find the place."

"At least you've been here before. Where's the...uh. Facilities."

Laughter. "Remember that even smaller shack we passed on the way here? Near where we parked the snowmobile?"

A pause. "You're kidding, right?"

"I wish. Benny and me were gonna come up here, fix the place up. Always my plan, get some indoor plumbing up here. But you know, one thing and another..."

"Hey, cut that out. I gotta --"

"Go, already. I'll see if I can figure out how to heat the place up without you."

Ray shut the door behind him. Ray shucked his gloves, rubbed his hands together, and began dragging wood into the stove. Matches, matches, where would Benny keep matches? Probably in his pockets, so that no passing ruffians could accidentally set fire to anything.

He wandered into what passed for a kitchen -- Benny'd obviously had time to add it on since the last time Ray had been here. Boy, that was a long time ago. Ray smiled in spite of himself. What the hell he thought he was doing, dragging his butt outta bed and over a thousand miles of snowy wastes...but Benny was worth it. Always had been.

Ah, matches. Right on the window sill. Next to it, a framed photo of the three of them, taken the last time Benny was in Chicago. Sweet. That was a nice shot of Ray, great smile.

The door banged. "Jesus Christ it's cold out there...hey, where --"

"Hey, c'mere and look at this."

Ray wandered in, hands under his folded arms. His cheeks, nose, and lips were pink with cold. He moved closer, looking over Ray's shoulder.

"Yeah, I remember that. Franny took that." A cold nose invaded Ray's neck.

"Hey!" Ray squirmed. "You're freezing!"

Cold hands crept under his sweater and t-shirt. "So where's that fire already?"

Ray turned and met his lips, cold and a little chapped from the weather. "Stanley," he said, against the stubbled cheek. "If you don't knock it off, Fraser's gonna find us frozen into a solid lump in his kitchen."

"You call me Stanley again, Vecchio, and I will--"

"Kick me in the head?" Ray picked up the matches and headed out toward the stove. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," he tossed over his shoulder.

"So, seriously, Fraser knew we were coming?"

"Swear to God. He's probably out catching some poor schmuck who went duck hunting in rabbit season. You know Fraser." Light, you stupid stove.

Ray gave a little laugh. "Hey, I love that cartoon."

"What cartoon?" Flames licked the newspaper, releasing a welcome, toasty smell.

"Geez, Vecchio, could you even pretend to catch a pop culture reference once in a while? It's not like you grew up without a TV like --"

Just as the kindling began to catch, they heard footsteps. Then Fraser's voice,

"I'm not saying that at all. I just find it very unlikely that they would bother to bring you deep-dish pizza all the way from Chicago."

Ray turned to Ray. Both men were already smiling.


End file.
